


Suicide Blonde

by Rabid1st



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Shameless Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid1st/pseuds/Rabid1st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the lowest point in his long life, just after the Time War, the Ninth Doctor met a girl. I wrote this story during S2 of New Who, but it fits in nicely still...with what we saw in the most recent Anniversary story. The first time the Doctor met Rose Tyler was a long time after she first met him. This is a story of cheap sex saving a life. Or of a love that drew two people to one another across time and space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suicide Blonde

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be part of DISHEVELED...(the basic idea will come up again there) but I really couldn't make it fit and still let Nine have a good time with Rose. So...I forced myself to take some PWP pity on Nine...careful readers will notice that Time Lord anatomy in this one is more"Phallic"...than it is in Disheveled. Yeah! Like I said...Nine wanted to have a good time. The idea is that Nine was already fitted for one of the Disheveled devices. But another way of looking at it is, this is more like a dream of a memory for Ten.

SUICIDE BLONDE  
By Rabid1st  
Nine/Rose  
Rating: M+  
Beta Babes: Jei, Dualbunny & Aibhinn  
Spoilers: S1. None for S2 but set after Fear Her...and we start with Ten/Rose.  
Summary: The Doctor meets Rose Tyler for the first time, but it’s long after she first met him.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. All belongs to the BBC and RTD.

 

The day after their anniversary, they stood together on a secluded balcony in a very posh hotel and watched him stride across the public square far below, his jumper and jacket out of season in the tropical setting. The jumper was deep purple, Rose’s favorite color on him, but he looked pale and haggard. Though, she couldn’t see his eyes from her vantage point, of course, she knew they would be a clear sea blue. They always were when he wore purple. His gaze never wavered from the straight-ahead. People got out of his way; well out of it, like he worried them. He turned down a side street and disappeared into an oceanfront bar. 

“He’s got hair,” Rose said, surprised by this detail. “Not much of it, but still.”

“Fresh out of the asylum, I wasn’t used to doing for myself,” the Doctor said. 

“How long has it been?”

“About six weeks.”

He said it matter-of-factly but Rose felt sick at the thought of him locked up for two decades. War. Death. Loss. Trauma both mental and physical. Twenty years in a mental hospital. And after only six weeks on the outside, he wanted to die. He’d come to this beautiful place, not to bask in the sun or make love in the surf but to end his life. She’d been devastated when he’d first told her. The knowledge had settled like a crushing weight on her heart. She couldn’t bear to think of him in that much pain.

“Go to him, Rose. Give him a reason to wake up tomorrow and he’ll keep on until he finds you again.”

Rose shivered but nodded. This was it. Their future together, and their past, depended on this one encounter. Chin resting on her shoulder, the Doctor gave her a squeeze. He believed in her. The way he’d explained things, she had no cause to worry. It seemed easy enough. All she had to do was seduce him. It had already happened. This was their first meeting, not the moment in the shop when he’d taken her hand. 

The Doctor had told her about it just yesterday, told her he’d met her here first, in a bar on Barcelona. Somehow she’d convinced him to live on when he’d given up hope. She’d plied him for details over breakfast but he’d refused to tell her anything more about the encounter.

“Best not to coach you,” he’d said.

“But,” she’d protested, gazing into his glittering dark eyes while ignoring his offer of a toast square, “You can’t die here. Won’t you just regenerate?”

He’d popped the toast in his own mouth, chewed and swallowed, before saying, “There are ways to get around regeneration, if you’re determined enough. And I will be.”

Now, mid-afternoon on the balcony, a tiny furrow appeared between her brows. “Suicide,” she breathed, looking down on the beautiful piazza and shaking her head. She hated the word, the concept. It hurt to think of her Doctor just giving up. Finding his hand at her waist, she stroked her fingers along the back of it. 'Manly, hairy hands,' she thought and smiled in spite of her worry. He pulled her closer to whisper reassurance into her ear. 

“You can stop it,” he told her. “Save me.”

She nodded. Stepping out of his embrace and pivoting to face him, she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. It was an anniversary gift from him, a backless confection of pink and orange and yellow silk, with a flowing skirt and a plunging neckline. Gold thread had been worked through the material, accenting the swirling pattern. She wore high-heeled sandals and large hoop earrings. Her lips were painted a glossy watermelon. Rose knew she looked good. The outfit suited her figure and her coloring. But she wasn’t used to dressing up, being so utterly feminine. It titilated but also intimidated her, just a little. She fluffed out her hair. It had been less than a week since she’d dyed it a brilliant champagne blonde. 

“How do I look?”

The Doctor grinned at her, flashing his dimple, and said, “Lethal.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Will be come morning,” he told her as, arm around her waist, he steered her toward the door.

Dread sent her heart plummeting into her stomach, like a falcon in a dive. Her palms were sweaty and she shook with nervous energy. What was she going to say? What was she supposed to do? How could she approach a complete stranger, knowing he was so powerful, so important to her, and talk him out of killing himself?

“What do I say to him?”

“You’ll think of something. Just don’t tell him about us. He’ll…,” the pronouns were giving him trouble, “I'll sense it but I can’t know how far we’ve gone. I won’t want to poke around in your mind. It’s still too soon for that, my own sense of self is too fragile. Don’t tell me your name or where you’re from and everything should work out just fine.”

Rose looked at him askance. It seemed hopeless. She tried to lighten her mood with a joke, “I think I’ll open with ‘How often would you like to come here?’”

He beamed and her heart soared. “Or,” he suggested, draping his body around hers like a cape, “want to go back to my room and improve the view?” 

“Would your sign happen to be yield?”

“Go,” he chuckled, shoving her out the door.

She went but paused in the hallway to gather more nerve. Stalling for time, she glanced back at him. “Not finding it odd at all,” she remarked, “pimping out your girlfriend like this?”

“Not when I’m pimping to myself, no. I’m in favor of you sleeping with me, actually. Anytime I take your fancy, have at me. You can rest in the sure and certain knowledge that you have my blessing.” 

Rose nodded absently, blind, now, to his engaging smile. Her mind on the task ahead, she looked toward the stairs before deciding to take the lift down. Between the unaccustomed high-heels and her trembling knees the stairs wouldn’t be safe. How had she ever managed to seduce a suicidal Time Lord? Probably it took more than the right dress. The Doctor wasn’t exactly the sort to notice a little cleavage or a flash of leg. Especially when they’d first met. These days, all she had to do was kiss him and he gave it up. But back then…he’d been more than a little aloof. He’d told her she was beautiful, once, but had instantly qualified it with ‘for a human.’ 

Riding the lift to the lobby, Rose thought about the long way they’d traveled together, she and the Doctor, emotionally and physically. As she left the hotel, however, she set those thoughts aside and concentrated on projecting confidence. Head high, shoulders back, she walked briskly toward the bar. But halfway across the plaza, she faltered, turning to look up at her room window. Her heart offered a silent appeal. The curtain twitched in response and she smiled, relaxing. Her Doctor was watching over her. He would never let her be hurt or humiliated. This might not go smoothly but the man she’d met so long ago in a shop basement was the same man she’d just left upstairs. He wasn’t going to reject her, embarrass her. She could do this.

At the bar, she paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the relative gloom. It wasn’t a dimly-lit dive, but the sun outside was far brighter. When she could see, she easily spotted the Doctor. He was hunched over a table in the far corner, nursing, not a double or a triple but, a pint glass brimming with the local brew. Rose wondered if he was anesthetizing or if he simply planned to drink himself to death. Either way, she meant to interfere. She walked confidently to his table.

“Mind if I sit down?”

He didn’t even glance up, just slurred, “I do, actually.”

She sat down anyway, smiling brightly when he lifted his line of sight to glare at her. “Buy you a drink?” Without waiting for his response, she flashed two fingers at the waitress, who nodded in response.

Both brows arching aristocratically, the Doctor raised his glass, pointedly sloshing the fluid so the few ice cubes rattled. “Got a drink, thanks,” he said, his tone clearly indicating he thought she might be too thick to notice.

This seduction game was harder than it looked on paper. “How ‘bout a dance?”

He didn’t deign to answer this time, probably because there was no music playing. Mouth in a tight, exasperated, line he gave a fed-up little sniff. His pained but resigned expression told her she was just the sort of annoyance he expected life to unload at his table. Head low, he shifted his weight to the side. His chair's legs grated along the stone floor and, without another word to her, he stood and took his drink to the bar. Rose huffed and flounced after him. The more he struggled, the more determined she became to land him. This was ridiculous, him playing hard to get when he hadn’t had sex in, at least, twenty years. Knowing him, it was probably more like two hundred. She positioned herself with her back to the bar, elbows resting on it, breast thrust forward. Lead with your assets, she figured. Her body bowed toward his. 

“Oh, come on. One dance is not going to kill you.”

His head snapped up and around and he glared at her with open-mouthed dismay. “You just assume…” he began angrily. But he broke off, shaking his head before continuing on in a sweetly reasonable tone, “There’s no band, no music,” he said, following up with a sarcastic smirk. Despite his sudden shift into mild manners, Rose didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so perturbed. 

“We can make our own music.” 

He shut his eyes for a moment and then rolled his head to the side to stare pityingly at her. Rose felt like sinking through the floor. God, she was awful at this. Back to studying his drink, the Doctor sighed, “Has that line _ever_ worked for you?” 

“Generally, I don’t need lines.”

“Now, that I believe,” he muttered.

“We can go somewhere else,” she said, doggedly. “Somewhere with a band, maybe?”

Tilting his head all the way back, he gulped the rest of his drink. Finished, he slammed the glass onto the bar. The bartender headed for him but he waved off the refill and started fumbling in pockets for money. “Not interested,” he said, to both her and the barkeep.

“Are you saying you don’t…dance?” She asked, barely able to hold back a snicker.

He'd tossed some spare change onto the bar and turned on his heel, heading for the door. But her evident glee stopped him cold. Peering down at her, he asked, “Tha’ supposed to be funny?” 

Rose took advantage of his momentary lapse in hostility, sidling closer to slip her arm through his. “Could be. If you were in on the joke.”

He gently disengaged his arm. Holding her back with one hand, he stared intently into her smiling face. “Who are you?”

Rose felt color stain her cheeks. The heat radiating from him crawled under her skin. He was so close, so physically intimidating. But he was still the Doctor. Her gaze darted to the door. Through it she could just see the balcony of the room where his later regeneration waited for her. He would be there as long as she got through to this version. If she failed, she didn’t want to think about her future, never mind her past. Determined to succeed, she wrapped her fingers around his arm, running them down to his bare wrist. After plucking his hand from her shoulder, she locked their fingers together. 

“You know how the world is spinning?” He blinked at their clasped hands, pulling back a little instead of nodding. “Everything looks like its standing still, but its not.” Her second sentence got his attention. He scowled at her, his face hardening into carved marble, remote and cold. “Can you feel it all moving? Can you feel how we’re clinging to the skin of this tiny little world?” Squeezing his eyes closed for a heartbeat, he seemed to draw into himself. He swallowed convulsively. She saw a tremor wash over him as she softly concluded, “That’s who I am."

His eyes popped open, his icy gaze stabbed into her as he flung her hand away. “No.”

“Yes.” She insisted. “You feel it, Doct…. I know you do.” 

She stayed with him as he strode toward the exit. Ducking through the open doorway, he broke out into the street, heading for the piazza. His long legs ate up ground. She had to run to keep even with him.

“Look,” he growled over his shoulder, “You’re not from around here. I get that. But you’re not part of my past. And I’m fresh out of future. So, whoever you are, wherever you came from, you’re wasting your time.”

“Cor,” she panted. “I’ve never seen anyone so set against getting shagged.” 

He stopped so abruptly she barreled by him and had to whirl about in her high heels. Never a good idea for her. She tottered precariously on the turn. He gathered her into his chest before she could fall over but immediately set her away from him again. “Is that what this is about?” he exclaimed, “Sex?” His scathing gaze, raked over her. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but you don’t look the type.” Before she could ask what he meant, he drew a fistful of coins from his jacket pocket and spilled them into her instinctively upturned palms. “Here. All the money I have. Go buy yourself something pretty.”

Stunned by this gesture, Rose stood with her head bowed, simply staring at the money for a moment. He stepped around her and headed off again. When she glanced up, he was several yards away. It took her a few seconds longer to understand what he was implying. As it hit her, she boiled over. “I’m not…hey!” 

Furious, she forgot all about her mission. Drawing her arm back, she hurled the coins at his departing figure. One of the larger gold pieces bounced off his skull with an audible thump. He cursed under his breath and spun about, changing direction as smoothly as a jungle cat. Rose gurgled in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to move quite so fast. Though, she’d certainly seen him close angrily on other people, he’d generally been deliberate and careful around her. She backpedaled, throwing up a defensive forearm to ward him off as he reached for her. 

He knocked her arm aside with his, seized her shoulders and shook her. “I’ve had enough of your company. Find someone else to bother.”

“While you go off yourself?” she challenged, wrenching free of his grip. He gaped at her. 

“Who are you?” he demanded in a harsh whisper, his eyes wild and his fingers clenching into fists.

Rose was too angry to be intimidated. “Never you mind who I am. All you need to know is if I’m the last thing you do in this life, you’ll be better off than you are right now.”

Her fury broke through his self-pity. It stilled him. His blue eyes sparked and something close to a smile touched his lips. Rose could hear her pulse pounding. The air between them practically crackled with energy. She drew a shuddering breath as his gaze trailed over her again, moving much slower this time. He lingered near the apex of her thighs before darting a glance at the top of her head. His brows arched and his mouth dropped open just a little, even as it lifted at the corners. Rose had to fight an urge to back away as he stepped in very close and, using two fingers, carefully separated a wide ribbon of her hair from the rest. “Tha’s not your natural color,” he remarked, stroking the ribbon with his thumb as the backs of his fingers lightly grazed her cheek. “You do it yourself?”

Heart thudding rabbit-quick, mouth sandpaper dry, Rose had to moisten her lips before she could speak. But she elevated her chin to meet his eye and said, “What if I do?”

“Dyed by your own hand,” he intoned hollowly and then like someone had thrown a switch, he lit up, smiling at her like Christmas came early. His eyes actually twinkled when he said, “A genuine suicide blonde. And trust me…there are worse ways to go.” He stepped to the side and held out his hand. “Come on then, the sooner you’re satisfied the sooner I can get on with my pressing business.”

She hesitated a moment before nesting her palm into his. To her surprise, he turned back toward the waterfront. She’d expected him to take her to the TARDIS. “I’ve got a room,” she said, looking over her shoulder and up at the window where his much older self was presumably still waiting and watching. 

“Not in the mood for mints on my pillow, thanks,” he said with a sort of brisk good humor. 

“And I don’t fancy sand in my knickers,” she countered. Truthfully, she couldn’t care less about sand in most cases. She and the Doctor had enjoyed any number of rolls in the surf. But it was broad daylight after all and the beach, while not crowded, was a long way from secluded. 

“Oh, I’ll get you a bed, Bella, don’t you worry. Just not for the whole night.”

He’d called her Bella, beautiful. She grinned. It took a lot of the sting out of his cavalier attitude. But she almost balked when he towed her into an alley and started up a rickety narrow stair, vaulting steps two and three at a time. There were a number of doors off the landing. The Doctor tapped impatiently at the first one. As soon as they heard a gruff voice asking who was there, they moved on to the next door. A baby wailed behind it. A knock at the third door yielded nothing but silence. The Doctor whipped out his screwdriver and forced the lock. 

They stepped into a very simple apartment. It was a rent-by-the-hour room, good for a quick shag or for sleeping off your overindulgence. No frills. There was a bed, a chair and a hook on the back of the door. A curtain partially hid a toilet and pull-chain shower in the room’s only alcove. Rose noticed the drain in the patch of tiled floor. It still had hair in it from the previous tenant. She wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about hygiene as the Doctor shrugged out of his stiff leather jacket, hanging it on the hook. 

“We’re just going to…get on with it, then?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

Rose didn’t move but she cast a suspicious look at the bed. “What if they rent this room?”

“At this time of day? On the off-season? Not likely.” He paused, forearms crossed, fingers gripping the bottom hem of his jumper as he met her eye. “It’s hot as a Martian winter in here. No air conditioning, no afternoon custom.” 

“Noticed the heat, did you?” Rose remarked. The bodice of her dress was already clinging to her like a second skin. Sweat trickled between her breasts and behind her knees. The Doctor stripped off his jumper, tossing it toward the chair. Then, leaning around her, he flipped a switch on the wall. The ceiling fan over the bed started turning sluggishly. 

“Yeah, that’ll help, thanks,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. A second later, a cold shiver raced up her arms when he drew the flat of his palm through the beading moisture on her bare back.

“You want ambience or a leg over?” he asked, delivering the hard-edged words in a seductive burr.

In a sentence that started off sharply but, when he brushed his lips along her collarbone, faded away into a breathy sigh, she told him, “They’re not mutually exclusive...."

Her nipples hardened into taut, throbbing pearls. She was braless and her puckered aureoles were clearly visible through the wet translucence of her dress. Even the airy pressure of the silk made them ache. Deep inside, at her very core, Rose throbbed like a high tension wire. And the moisture between her legs had less to do with the temperature than what she was thinking about doing next. The Doctor’s eyes widened in surprise, when she shoved him backward into the edge of the bed but he let himself fall, bouncing on the mattress. 

Rose half expected bugs to scuttle out from under the faded covers but to her surprise there was a fresh linen smell instead. At least, the sheets were clean even if the shower wasn’t. The Doctor’s fingers were already tugging at his zipper but she batted them aside. Hiking up her skirt, she kneeled on the bed edge, straddling his hips. She felt the hard expectation of his arousal pressing into her as she rocked forward. His hands grabbed her waist, pushing her down firmly. Oh, yes, she knew what he liked. He hadn’t changed that much. 

But he had changed. Even through his clothing, she could sense the difference in him. This wasn’t her fantasy come true. He was thicker than she’d expected. His new trimmer body had an elegantly tapered member. This one had a blunt, no nonsense instrument. Its swollen length moved under his fly.

“I’m not human,” he said, misreading her startled expression. “But I can get the job done. You might want a shower after though ‘cause I’m going to…”

Bracing an arm on either side of his chest, Rose took one of his nipples in her teeth and squeezed it until it turned white and hard. That shut him up. Her tongue followed the pinch of her teeth, sweeping in tight soothing circles. The Doctor groaned, his hands going to her head, sliding through her hair without purchase until he fisted his fingers. Once his grip was secure, he guided her lower. She licked and nibbled and kissed, exploring his navel and leaving her mark in the hollow of his hip. He tasted like lemons, earthy and a little bitter. Again, not like his regenerated self, whose skin had a spicy, exotic flavor. 

As she spilled to the floor, Rose was surprised to see her hands trembling. She tried to control them as she worked on the two buttons at the top of his fly but she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Despite the heat, she shivered as if chilled. It felt like she was cheating, sneaking off to a cheap motel for a quick bang with a secret lover. She knew it was nothing like that, of course. This was her Doctor. Same man, different face. Well, different everything. 

But the illicit thrill refused to subside. It mixed with her case of first-time jitters to ratchet up her arousal. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted someone this much. The sexual hunger had her shuddering. She needed him inside, and quick. She gave up on the buttons, reaching for his zipper. But before she could tug it down, the Doctor cried out in incoherent anguish and caught her wrists. Curling up off the bed, he forced her back. 

“Enough,” he said. “What are you doing here? You don’t know who I am. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You’re the Doctor,” she said, looking up at him with Bambi-soft eyes and, for the first time, allowing him to see all the love she held in her heart. “And you did what you had to do. They gave you no choice.” His hand stretched out, fingertips straining toward her temple. She shifted away, saying, “Don’t. You aren’t well enough.”

He let his hand fall to his lap and sat, staring into her upturned face, amazed by her insight. His lower lip trembled. He pressed his mouth into a thin line and bit down, clenching his jaw to hold in his pain, but hot tears spilled over his lashes, trickling unheeded down his cheeks. Rose’s heart lurched. She’d never seen him cry. 

“Oh, Bella, why didn’t I die?” he asked, plaintively. 

“Because we still need you.”

It was the simple truth. He was the last of the Time Lords. The universe needed him. Rose was here, cheating on her Doctor because this Doctor had to go on living. If he died, her whole world, and countless others, would unravel. She reached for his hand, drew it to her cheek and then to her lips. “Let me give you what _you_ need,” she murmured, her mouth caressing his fingers. “It’s time someone was there for you.” Turning his hand, she placed a chaste kiss in the center of his palm.

He cupped her face with both hands as he stood, urging her to her feet. Slick with sweat, she slithered along his body, swiveling her hips as they kissed. It took him a moment or two to open to her tongue. When he did, when they lapped into each other, Rose felt a jolt all the way to her toes. She clenched inside and her arms stole up and around his neck. He embraced her at an angle, one hand diving under the open back of her dress to caress her bottom, the other cradling the curve of her left breast. His thumb swiped over her nipple, again and again.

As his foreplay got more creative, the room got hotter and Rose got wetter. Perspiration dripped from her nose and the damp strands of her hair. She alternately shivered and burned depending on where he kissed her, what he did with his tongue. Her skin felt like a traffic signal, pulsing red. She sensed cooler air on the back of her legs as he gathered her skirt to her waist. His fingers eased under the elastic of her knickers, rolling them down over the swell of her hips. She shimmied a little, encouraging the soaked scrap of lace and cotton to slither to her ankles. When it did, she stepped free of it. 

The Doctor kicked off his boots before ducking under her arm and moving behind her. He pressed into her back, his trouser front rough against her bare bottom. Both of his hands crawled over her, caressing her breasts and her belly and clawing at her dress and the firmer flesh of her thighs. Encouraging him with wordless mewling, she spread her legs for his probing fingers. He bent his knees a little to get the best angle and gloved his fingers in her rippling, slick heat. She bucked her hips. Catching her around the waist with his other arm, he drew her up onto her toes and held her there as he sucked on her throat, bringing her blood to the surface above…and below where his fingers pumped in and out. Rose tried to keep him inside but he worked free of her desperately clenching grip. Trailing oily fluid along her inner thigh, he slowly withdrew his hand. 

She dimly processed the metallic hiss of his zipper. His trousers thudded softly to the floor. Kicking them to one side, he pushed on her upper back, bending her over his arm. Before she quite understood what was happening, he plunged into her in one long, smooth, upward thrust. Rose keened, her whole body quaking as she fell forward. She stopped her fall with stiff arms and lifted one bent knee to the mattress edge, crawling up onto it, even as the Doctor yanked her backward. Her fingers curled into the bedding as she slid to him. He slapped against her backside even harder than before, going so deep she swore.

It felt fantastic. She was more than ready for him, so he slid in easily. But it did surprise her. She didn’t often take this position. Never with Mickey and the new, new Doctor liked to look at her, stare into her eyes while he murmured sweet nothings. This Doctor obviously enjoyed fondling…and control. As he rocked her again, her breasts swung heavily. The delightfully decadence of their free weight thrilled her, especially when the Doctor ran his hand between them. He licked her bare back and alternately pinched and lightly petted her nipples as he established an almost desperate rhythm, pounding into her. Stroking deep, stroking everywhere, he kept on riding hard until her back arched and she ground against him, wailing. Bright lights strobed behind her eyelids, as she jolted and jerked through a truly earth-shattering orgasm. 

Her locked elbows gave way, dropping her face first onto the bed “So good,” she mumbled into the covers. “You’re…that was…sogood.”

“Someone’s gonna hear, you keep screaming like that,” the Doctor warned. “They’ll think I’m murdering you.”

“I think you…might be,” Rose panted. 

His hand skimmed her skin, following the curve of her bare bottom. “Need a breather?” 

“…please…”

Slipping free of her still quivering core, he hooked an arm under one of Rose’s knees and leveraged her over onto her back. She rolled easily, sprawled in complete abandon to stare up at his magnificent nakedness. He smiled beatifically down on her. 

“No lung capacity, you humans,” he said. “I could do this all night.”

“I thought you didn’t plan to keep me all night.”

“Changed my mind.”

“Might as well get comfortable, then,” she groaned. She made a half-hearted attempt to curl forward, tugging at her dress but soon slumped back, breathless and defeated. “Oh…wow…I’m all trembles.”

“He makes you tremble, I bet,” he said, casually. “The other one?”

Despite the oppressive heat, Rose’s skin prickled as if chilled. “What other…?”

“You been with a Time Lord before,” he darted a leading glance at his exposed manhood. “Otherwise you’d have commented.” She opened her mouth to deny it but he cut her off. “Don’t bother lying. You aren’t very good at it. You know too much about me and the Time War. And I can smell the spatial differential in your sweat. Like I said before, you’re not from around here.”

They faced off with one another neither willing to give way but eventually she shrugged. “He makes me tremble, yeah,” she admitted. 

“But still you’ve come to me?”

“I’m a sort of groupie,” she drawled. Tongue between her teeth, she grinned up at him before adding, “Love your work.” He didn’t offer her even a ghost of a smile. He held predatorily still, studying her with his silvery blue eyes until she squirmed in discomfort. With some effort, she pushed up on an elbow. “Are we done here?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, bending across her to help guide the dress over her head. “But I mean to meet your friend when we are. I didn’t know anyone else survived.”

“You can’t.”

“He the jealous sort?” He didn’t sound like he cared but she knew better. The Doctor was most definitely the jealous sort. This one was probably already thinking of her as his. But before she could confirm or deny anything, Rose saw a horrible shadow distort his features, stealing his renewed spirit away. “Or is he gone…? Dead? Is that why I don’t sense him?”

She didn’t want him jumping on this train of thought. “Nah…he’s just…swanned off is all.”

He shook his head, clearing it and rejecting her statement. “And left you here? Somehow I doubt that.”

“You think I’m a keeper, yeah?”

“I think…you’re a long way from home. Twentieth century Earth? London…? One of the estates, I’d wager.” 

Rose groaned. They might have guessed he’d place her accent. Then she remembered the Doctor didn’t have to guess. He knew what had happened. He might have warned her. How was she supposed to deny knowing any Time Lords when she smelled like a time-traveler and was obviously not a local girl? 

The Doctor was still talking. “I’d say your friend is somewhere close, maybe watching.”

“Is that what you’d do?”

“It is. I’d watch you constantly.”

Rose knew he was telling the truth. She remembered him watching, especially when she’d gotten anywhere close to Mickey or Jack. Jack. Oh, now, there was an idea.

“Anyway, he's not a Time Lord,” she said. “He’s a time agent, fifty-first...er, fifty-third century. Whatever. Different thing, yeah? And maybe I’ve only read about your anatomy. Wanted to see for myself.”

He shook his head, not believing a word of it. “He have a name, your friend?”

“I expect he does.”

“But you’re not telling? Or you can’t, ‘cause you don’t know it,” he surmised. “Not calling himself the Master, by any chance?”

She beamed up at him before purring, “Not even in bed.”

That made him chuckle. “Nor me,” he confessed. “Though, I’ll answer to just about anything else you called me. How ‘bout yours?” he suggested. 

Rose gave him a pitying look. “Has that line _ever_ worked for you?”

“Once or twice. But generally, I don’t need lines.” He bobbed his chin toward the wrought iron headboard. “You might want to hold onto something for this next bit, get some leverage.”

The next bit turned out to be even raunchier than the first. Raw and primitively wicked, it had to be something out of the Time Lord Kama Sutra. Rose only tolerated it because she’d established an unprecedented level of trust in the Doctor. Though she’d never had sex with this version and he felt, tasted and smelled different than the one she had shagged, she knew him intimately. He’d held her close during some of the worst moments in her life. She loved the scent of well-worn leather, clinging to his skin. And found as much comfort as she did passionate satisfaction in his arms. 

They bridged their bodies, intersecting at the most delicious angles. He said things, did things that, days later, made her come over all breathless, wet and tingly. Her orgasms cascaded into one another, creating a sort of rip current in her blood. She went under, and then resurfaced gasping for air. Each time, he gave her a few minutes to recover before pushing her to the brink again. It went on and on, an endless spiral of ebbing and surging pleasure. They soaked the sheets with their combined exertion. 

It took a lot to make him sweat. Rose was glad she’d trained for this. But she needed it to end. She didn’t want it to. Not ever. But she couldn’t keep at it much longer. If they didn’t stop soon, she’d simply wear out. Already her muscles were in spasm, trembling uncontrollably. She freed a hand to haul him closer. Her mouth found his, her tongue stroked in and out and amazingly she wanted more. 

As she clung to him, a low-pitched whine built in the depths of the Doctor’s throat. He tore free of her lips, his head jerking back as he begged her to give him just a little more friction. She did, but it cost her. Another climax shook her. She slammed into the headboard, every muscle rigid as she came. Her head banged against the wall. Her heart banged against her ribcage. And reality shattered around her. Her soul seemed to puff free but she heard the Doctor yelping through his own release and knew she must still be alive. Her first sensation upon falling again into her body was the hot sticky spill of him all over her aching inner walls. She reveled in the moist heat. But she’d had enough. She might never feel horny again.

“No…more,” she whimpered, slumping to the bed. Her head lolled to one side. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Couldn’t manage...anymore...myself,” he gasped, back arching as he pushed off of her. He collapsed to the side, for once breathing just as raggedly as she was. Mouth close to her ear, he panted, “Oh, Bella…how can I ever…ever…let you go?”

“You have to,” Rose murmured, sleepily. “You have to get dressed...go. Leave me....”

“Why’s that then?”

She yawned, hugely, curling into his arms. “Because one of us has to go...and I can’t move...walk,” she mumbled. 

“Huh? Logical.”

“Happened before, happens again, yeah?” 

His radiant smile reached his eyes and altered his whole outlook. The future was suddenly full of surprises again. He cradled her gently, shifting her into greater comfort as he pressed onto his side. Staring down at her full mouth, swollen to bee-sting perfection by his kisses, he felt a wash of tenderness and asked, “So, I will see you again?”

“Course you will,” she sighed, already dreaming of the day. “Somebody’s got to bring me to Barcelona.”

“Oh,” he grinned, “it’s like that, is it?”

Realizing belatedly that she’d just blown her cover, Rose groaned and tried to open her eyes. “Oh…God…my head.” She raised a flutteringly weak hand to her temple as she squinted at him. “Look, don’t say I told you, okay? There might be a paradox.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be our secret,” he murmured, “Until this very moment comes ‘round again.”

Trusting him completely, she let her eyes close again, drifting away into slumber. When she woke, it was dark out and much cooler in the room. And there was another Doctor holding her. He had brown eyes and a trimmer figure but his adoring smile still warmed her heart and his touch still made her shiver. 

 

THE END


End file.
